


Keep Calm

by mycitruspocket



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Actor Eames, Alternate Universe, Artist Eames, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6239590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycitruspocket/pseuds/mycitruspocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur checks his watch - another hour before he can go home, put the TV on and watch a ridiculously attractive shopping channel host sell just as ridiculous items. His days have been reduced to this for a while now. And it’s not that Arthur doesn’t like his job, he even enjoys working overtime, but these days? He can’t wait to go home in time because he’s got something to look forward to - to go home to - as sad as that might sound. Eating takeout food in front of the TV, with Eames on the screen speaking softly, convincing him to buy things he knows he doesn’t need, is actually the most fun he’s had in a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keep Calm and Drink Tea

**Author's Note:**

> The fic was inspired [by this gifset.](http://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/post/131767928498)
> 
> My dear Hooptedoodle, thank you for the support, motivation and all the brilliant ideas for this story.  
> My friend Erasmus_Jones did a brilliant beta job, as always. Thanks!

 

  


 

Arthur checks his watch - another hour before he can go home, put the TV on and watch a ridiculously attractive shopping channel host sell just as ridiculous items. His days have been reduced to this for a while now. And it’s not that Arthur doesn’t like his job, he even enjoys working overtime, but these days? He can’t wait to go home in time because he’s got something to look forward to - to go home to - as sad as that might sound. Eating takeout food in front of the TV, with Eames on the screen speaking softly, convincing him to buy things he knows he doesn’t need, is actually the most fun he’s had in a while.

He traces the metallic wristband of his watch with his fingertips, just like Eames had done on the show a few weeks ago. It doesn’t look nearly as good on his wrist as it had done on Eames’ strong and tanned arm. On Arthur the dial looks too big, his skin is too pale and his wrist too bony. He still loves it though, can hear Eames say the watch being _not only classically handsome, but its automatic analogue movement is powered by the body's natural movements, so it never needs batteries or winding_. Arthur really likes the concept, ok, and he also might like to think about Eames’ natural body movements a lot.

Yes, Arthur knows he has a problem. When he looks around the open plan office there is at least one item from Eames’ show on each of the desks because he’s bought so many that he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. In his defence, these Japanese staplers are really practical and he would’ve bought them even if Eames hadn’t cradled them in his big hands like they were precious and breakable. He looks at the one on his own desk - which has the shape of a nigiri sushi - and sighs. Yeah, pretty sure he’s just trying to fool himself now.

“Arthur?”

When Arthur looks up Ariadne seems concerned, like she might have called his name a few times already.

“Yes?” he says, confused.

“The report from the last staff meeting about the new collection, you asked for it.”

“Oh. Thanks, Ari.”

He takes the folder from her and hesitates, his brain needing a little too long to switch from desperate pining to work mode and remember where to put the report in his painstakingly organised filing system.

Ariadne turns to go, but then stops to look back over her shoulder.

“Are you ok?”

Arthur just blinks slowly. He can’t fool her anyway, so why bother trying.

She walks around his desk and hops onto it, looking at him thoughtfully. “You need me to watch the show with you later, to keep you from ordering things?”

They’d done that a few times, and it actually worked once. Arthur had been much too embarrassed to order microfiber kitchen towels in front of her, no matter how often Eames had praised their softness and emphasised their practicality. Ari had been so proud of him, and then he’d watched the 2am re-run and ordered them anyway. She must have seen them in his kitchen by now, his apartment is too small to hide all the stuff properly, but she’d had the decency not to tease him about it.

“No thanks, it’s ok. I’ll get over it - him - eventually. And it’s not like I’m ever going to meet him or anything.”

“Sure. As long as you don’t win customer of the month, you’ll be fine.”

Arthur chokes on a mouthful of cold coffee.

“ _What_?”

“How can you, of all people, not have heard about that?”

“Come on, give me a little credit here. I’m not really the home shopping type and you know the reason I watch this fucking show. It’s your fault anyway, you always have the stupid channel on when I come around.”

“Yeah, sorry, old habits die hard and all that. If I’d known you get this easily obsessed with a big, tattooed guy with a British accent, I’d have turned it off. Believe me, would’ve been easier than dealing with this mess.”

“Very funny,” Arthur deadpans. “Now tell me what this is about.”

“You’ve been ordering stuff from every one of his shows since you started watching, haven’t you?”

“I um, might have…”

Of course he has, Arthur has never spent so much money on mainly useless things in his life.

“I don’t know how many other lonely souls are hoarding the things he sells, but winning customer of the month means you get to meet the host of the show you ordered all the stuff from.”

Arthur counts quickly and comes to the embarrassing conclusion that he’s bought 56 items from Eames’ show in February, which seems a lot, but he’s got nothing to compare it to. He drowns the rest of the disgusting office coffee and winces.

“How many things have you ordered last month?” He asks, honestly curious.

“Uh, two scarves, one throw pillow, a crepe pan and the Keep Calm mug we ordered together.” She points at Arthur’s own mug on his desk. “That’s five, but the scarves were from a different show.”

Ari leans forward and pats his shoulder affectionately. It’s comforting, but Arthur still puts his head in his hands and groans in frustration.

“Maybe they don’t do it anymore,” she offers weakly. “And it’s not like you have to agree should you actually win.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Arthur grumbles.

He might be just the type to refuse the chance to meet his crush in person so his boring life can continue being boring. With a defeated sigh he goes to wash his Keep Calm and Drink Tea mug in the kitchenette. He doesn’t even drink tea for fuck's sake - but he would for Eames, he’d thought when he ordered it.

*

A little bit of research and Arthur quickly finds that yes, the network still offers the most active customer of one of their shows a meet-and-greet with the host every month. The winner is announced during the host’s first show of the next month - which is today. He has a bold moment when he leaves the office, where he briefly thinks that if he doesn’t win for February, he could just do more research on the network and maybe find out the actual numbers to see how much he’d actually have to buy this month to have another chance.

The moment is gone as soon as Arthur wonders how the actual meeting might go; what he would wear, what they would talk about, how awkward it would be for Eames to be forced to meet his stalker-viewer? He wants to go back to the place where Eames lives in his TV and there is no chance at all that they would ever meet in person.

Arthur can’t fight the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach when he turns on the TV that night. The highlight of his day now effectively ruined by the fear of facing something he’d thought was safely out of his reach. He’d turn it down, he really would. Most winners surely did that, normal people watch the shopping channel either because they are bored or because they actually want to buy all this stuff, surely not because they have a hopeless crush on the presenter.

Then Eames comes on screen with his natural smile and his plush lips curve so beautifully that Arthur can’t imagine he’s the only one sitting at home dreaming of kissing him.

Eames is built like a bear. He hides his massive chest under colourful, short sleeved vintage shirts, which are loose around the torso but stupidly tight around his strong biceps. Tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves, but not enough to make out words or images, which makes the man look more mysterious than he probably is. He’s clean shaven, most of the time, but Arthur loves it when there is a bit of stubble underlining his ruggedly handsome appearance. Eames’ hair was shorn almost completely off when Arthur had first started watching the show, he’s let it grow out since then but it’s still very short. Short enough to make his thick neck look like it could burst the collar if he ever considered buttoning his shirt up all the way, which he thankfully never does because Arthur likes the ink on his collarbone as well as the soft looking chest hair that curls at the base of the open collar.

Today’s show is all about coffee, which is one of the few things Arthur is passionate about in life so he doesn’t feel too bad about buying something this time. He even forgets about the competition and just focusses on Eames for a while.

His favourite product today is the espresso cups. Arthur loves a steaming cup of good espresso - black, without sugar but with a biscuit, please. He buys one every morning on his way to work, because the coffee at the office is awful. He doesn’t have an espresso machine at home so he can’t really understand why he wants them, but then he’s bought things he has less use for just because Eames had touched them so tenderly, or said something about them that made Arthur feel bad about not having any use for them in his uneventful life.

The way Eames holds the tiny cup in his big hand, with the handle looking a bit too narrow for his thick fingers, and his other hand stroking the side of it in a curvy, elegant motion, Arthur wants nothing more than to take the cup’s place.

On screen, Eames makes a joke about why the network keeps choosing tiny items for him to sell because it makes him look larger than he actually is. He makes a show out of it, flexing his muscles on purpose so that the fabric of his shirt tightens and the outlines of his hard nipples are visible for a moment.

Arthur feels dizzy and gets up to open the window, he needs the cool New York City evening air to clear his senses. He wills himself to look down on the busy street for a moment, but he turns around just in time to see Eames’ pink lips touch the white china, taking a sip.

Eames swallows, closes his eyes and honest to god _moans_. Oh but not because the coffee tastes so good, no, it’s not the coffee he’s making a good job of selling here. He manages to fill minutes talking about how perfectly the cup maintained the coffee’s temperature, how the quality of the porcelain enhances the flavour and how nice it feels against his lips. Arthur knows his morning espresso will never be the same again.

When his phone rings during the show he answers it without looking at who’s calling, it can only be Ari checking on him in case he does win and has a panic attack. He’s tried his best not to think about it, but the show is nearly over now. He flops down on the couch again, slouching into the cushions.

“Hey,” he sighs into the phone.

“Hey, how are you holding up?”

“Ordered the cups.”

“You don’t have an espresso machine, Arthur.”

“I’m aware, thanks.”

“Oh look, look! He has an envelope! Arthur, they gave him an envelope!”

Arthur shoots up from his slumped position even before Ari yells through the phone and pushes the volume up button on the remote repeatedly.

“Shhhh Ari fuck, what did he say?”

“That he’s got a _grand announcement_ to make.” He used to laugh about Ari’s bad fake British accent but he’s not able to laugh right now.

“He’s never done that before, it must be…” Arthur trails off, heart hammering in his chest.

They both fall silent and listen to what Eames says on screen.

 _“Tonight I’m very proud to announce the DNTS customer of the month on Eames’ Bare Necessities.”_ His smile widens and then he bats his eyelashes in something Arthur’s not quite sure is pretend or real shyness and adds, _“It’s my first time, I’m a little nervous.”_

Arthur is more than just a little nervous and he grips his phone tighter because his hand has gone all sweaty. He holds his breath and since he can’t hear Ari breathe on the other side he guesses she’s doing the same.

On screen, Eames opens the envelope, takes out a card and smiles down at it. Then he turns his blinding smile, crooked teeth full on display, towards the camera and says cheerfully, _“Arthur Reynolds, from New York City, congratulations! It’s going to be my pleasure meeting you soon.”_

Arthur’s jaw drops in a silent scream.

“Are we happy about that or not? Arthur? Talk to me!” Ari says with barely suppressed excitement.

“I… I don’t know.”

Arthur wants to die when someone from off screen hands Eames a phone and he continues talking cheerfully. _“And apparently, we still have a few minutes left so let’s see if dear Arthur here is home to ask him if he’s as excited about all this as I am.”_

Ari catches on much quicker than Arthur and he hates her for it.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna hang up. Arthur, you will answer this call, do you hear me? Don’t you dare let it go to voicemail.”

“But…” Too late, his display tells him that Ari’s dropped the call and then the phone rings just half a second later. Arthur’s heart is beating too fast, and he’s sure as hell not working on autopilot because his trusted autopilot would never let him press the answer button.

“Um, hello? Arthur speaking,” he presses out awkwardly.

“Arthur, wonderful! Hello, this is Eames from Eames’ Bare Necessities on DNTS. I’m calling to let you know you’re our customer of the month and you’ve won a meet and greet with me. Oh, I hear you have the telly running in the background. Please mute the program so we don’t get weird acoustic feedback, thank you.”

“Yeah, sure, one moment,” he stammers and hears his words being repeated on screen in a creaky tone. Eames smiles easily at the camera - at him.

“Lovely. Now tell me, Arthur, you’re a big fan of the show?”

“Yeah, you could say that. I watch it every day.” Arthur winces inwardly for sounding so pathetic, but he’s shaking all over and Eames’ voice is right there in his ear talking to _him_ , so he’s proud to get out the words he does.

“I know, they gave me a list of the things you bought.” On screen, Eames has said list in his hand and grins down on it. When he looks up again his eyes are shining with delight and Arthur has to close his eyes for a moment as Eames continues. “I hope it was a nice surprise hearing your name on the show tonight?”

Nice surprise? More like hearing his name coming out of Eames’ mouth is more than he can take right now.

“I uh… I didn’t really know this was a thing, to be honest,” he says weakly.

“Well, you do now! Arthur dear, this was me congratulating you officially. We’re going to contact you soon to settle the details. Thanks for the chat and have a lovely evening.”

“Thanks. Um, you too.”

With shaky fingers Arthur turns the volume up again while Eames on screen waves at him before he puts down the phone and says, _“Well, that was sweet. Thanks for watching everyone, and especially Arthur. Stay tuned for Denim Delights and see you all again tomorrow.”_

Arthur turns off the TV, tries to calm down in the dark and pretends the last five minutes of his life didn’t happen.

\---

_Youcantsaymylastname made amazing manips for this chepter! Please check out the[original post on tumblr](http://youcantsaymylastname.tumblr.com/post/142877517236/keep-calm-by-mycitruspocket), if you haven't already, and tell her how awesome they are! _

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the record, I wrote this for fun and didn't research how these shows work.


	2. Keep Calm and Dream Bigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames doesn’t know why, but Arthur’s lovely voice is enough for him to dig around a bit, trying to find out more about the man who belongs to it. Well, to be honest, it's the voice _and_ the fact that this man apparently calls in five times a week to order stuff Eames sells on the stupid show and he really wants to know why.

Eames doesn’t know why, but Arthur’s lovely voice is enough for him to dig around a bit, trying to find out more about the man who belongs to it. Well, to be honest, it's the voice _and_ the fact that this man apparently calls in five times a week to order stuff Eames sells on the stupid show and he really wants to know why.

They only gave him a list of Arthur’s orders from the last month, after that Eames had casually asked for all the sales figures since he started the show three months ago.

As it turns out, Arthur has bought over 100 items in eleven weeks. If he didn’t order during the live show, he did it during the re-run in the middle of the night or at the weekend. No other customer came even close to that. The orders also seem rather random to him, not following any recognisable pattern.

Eames is intrigued, to say the least. Arthur had sounded young despite the deep tones of his voice, and he’d charmed Eames with his awkward but cute stammering on the phone. So he googles him, which doesn’t get him very far because there are 8.910.000 results for _Arthur Reynolds, New York City_.

Although it’s kind of pointless, Eames clicks through the first 15 pages. Amongst the dodgy social media profiles, news articles and ads, he finds the website for the fashion label NYC-Miles which has a stunningly beautiful picture of an Arthur Reynolds as their chief accountant. He has his dark hair slicked back elegantly and wears a brown three piece suit - matching tie and everything - and stares at the camera with a slightly irritated look on his face, which only enhances his attractiveness in Eames’ opinion. After staring at it for far too long, he decides that this lovely Arthur seems too impeccably dressed to order all the tasteless rubbish Eames sells on TV, but he scrolls down the page just to be sure not to miss any hints that would suggest otherwise.

When he reads the name Ariadne Aubry amongst their list of designers, he immediately checks his customer list because he knows he’s seen that name before. Huffing in surprised amusement he rubs his chin. She’d bought a Keep Calm and Drink Tea mug a couple weeks ago and ordered it only two minutes after Arthur had ordered his.

Always the optimist, it’s enough to convince Eames that they must be friends and he’s found the right Arthur Reynolds. Smiling to himself, he saves the picture on his laptop, which is not creepy at all because he just wants to be able to recognise his customer of the month when they meet.

*

“Just a studio tour, Yusuf? Are you serious?”

“Well, it’s what they all get. A gift bag with presents from the show, a network t-shirt, flowers, and a studio tour.”

“That’s not a great prize. Besides, Arthur’s already bought almost everything that has ever been on the show.”

“Nobody said it would be a great prize, but most of them like it well enough and the hotel we use is decent too. And it’s not my problem that he’s a shopaholic.”

“Maybe it’s just because I’m such a good salesman.”

“If anything, it’s because you’re good actor. That still doesn’t mean we can make an exception for him.”

“You’re a shitty producer, Yusuf.”

“I’m actually a great producer because I always keep everything in budget. Now get on your spot, we’re on air in two minutes.”

“Budget my arse,” Eames grumbles dangerously. “The very nice champagne you ordered for your birthday drink here at the studio last month? I know you let the network pay for it, but you won’t ask them to cough up a bit more money to make this competition more interesting?”

Yusuf ducks his head, suddenly alarmed. He whispers, “How did you find out about the champagne?”

“I have my ways,” Eames says mysteriously. “No worries, I’ll let the team believe in your generosity when you can get me more money to do something nice with Arthur.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t like the studio tour?”

“He just doesn’t strike me as the man who would.”

Someone shouts from behind them that it’s time to go on air. Eames just raises one intimidating eyebrow at Yusuf who blinks nervously. “All right, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, man,” Eames tells him in a very serious, calm voice and briefly squeezes his shoulder a little too tightly. “Knew you were a good producer after all.”

He gets in position, putting a bit more weight into each step than necessary and doesn’t feel sorry for Yusuf when he sees him dragging his palm across his face in desperation. Playing the big and scary bastard is really fun.

*

The theme of tonight's episode is 'barbecue', because apparently it’s getting warmer outside and people like to be prepared. Suddenly, while praising the ergonomic handles of spatulas and pleasing colours of salad bowls, Eames realises he misses New York in the spring.

“All this reminds me of a lovely rooftop barbecue I went to in New York last year. Arthur, my dear customer of the month, do you have access to a rooftop in the city where you can set up something like this?”

Eames smiles his brightest smile into the camera and points at the utensils and decorations around him.

“It’s the perfect place for a barbecue on a summer’s evening, isn’t it? It feels like one is on top of the world, especially when the sun sets and you can light these amazing tiki torches for the most romantic atmosphere.”

The look he gives the camera now is leering, he knows it but can’t help himself. Picturing Arthur in this setting, with the Kiss the BBQ King apron he’s wearing himself right now, does that to him.

After the show he asks for the current list with the sales figures again, he needs to know what Arthur bought today. Ariadne ordered the torches and he laughs out loud in delight when he sees that Arthur actually bought the apron. And if he’s now picturing Arthur wearing only this apron and nothing else, it’s really not his fault at all.

*

The next day, Yusuf informs him that the network isn’t willing to spend more money on the customer of the month competition. Eames gives him a low and displeased grunt just to make him twitch nervously. The only thing they offer is to send Eames to New York and if he can save money by using the cheapest method of transportation and accommodation, he can use that part of the budget for an appropriate activity with the winner. He also has to take a short video of him, handing Arthur the network’s gift bag so they have footage for the show.

When they are done preparing the set for today’s show he calls Arthur to tell him the news. While Eames waits for him to answer, he realises that he’s oddly excited to hear his voice again. A giggle almost escapes him when Arthur finally speaks in a fondly amused tone.

“Ari, you just talked to me two minutes ago, what did you forget this time?”

His voice is even deeper than Eames remembers, probably because he’s not nervous right now and obviously didn’t check who called. Eames enjoys a triumphant second because he knew Arthur and Ariadne were friends before he corrects him.

“Sorry darling, but this is Eames.”

“ _Eames_?” Arthur says his name like he doesn’t know what to do with it, high-pitched and confused.

“Yes, Eames from the telly?” he says with a hint of disappointment he utterly fails to hide.

“I know who you are.” Arthur fails miserably at sounding casual when he clears his throat awkwardly and Eames’ heart jumps a little at that.

“Do you now? Lovely. Arthur, I’m calling to settle the details of our meeting. I can be honest with you, right?”

“Um, sure, yeah,” Arthur stammers and doesn’t sound sure at all, but Eames just goes for it.

“Ok, I don’t know what you expected, but they are not spending a lot of money on this, so… The options are you come here to Boston where the studios are, they pay for the hotel and all and I’ll give you a studio tour, if you are interested in that. And, well, you also get a gift bag with stuff and a DNTS shirt, but I don’t think you’d like that. However, I talked to the producer and they’d let me come to New York instead and we could have coffee and do whatever you prefer and just have a nice time.” Eames hesitates because when he’d been planning it in his head he hadn’t sounded quite so desperate and creepy. “So, what do you think?”

“You like New York, huh?” Arthur has apparently calmed down while Eames rambled on, like he noticed that Eames is a little nervous as well, and sounds amused again. Eames wonders what Arthur’s amused face looks like.

“Yep, you got me there. I lived in the city for a while and miss it terribly. I know someone who lets me kip on their sofa, so the network would let me spend the money they’d usually pay for accommodation to do something nice with you. They still want me to give you the gift bag, though.”

“That actually sounds better than a studio tour, yeah. But Eames, no offence, you don’t know me. Why are you even doing this? I could just cancel this whole thing and you wouldn’t have to do anything.”

It’s true, he doesn’t know him at all, but it feels like he should get to know Arthur rather sooner than later. Eames always tells people to dream bigger, and here is his chance to follow his own advice.

“First of all, you seem very lovely and I wouldn’t want you to cancel this just because it’s such a stupid prize. They’ve made quite a bit of money out of you after all and it’s only fair to get out the most of it for you. Secondly, as you’ve already discovered, I really like the city. For me, having coffee with you in New York, getting to know you, sounds like a pretty amazing day.”

“Yeah um, ok. If you say so, then let’s do that. I know a good coffee place,” Arthur says hesitantly. He seems a little shy about all of this which only intrigues Eames more.

“Excellent, we can meet there and then decide what to do, how’s that? Do you work on weekends?”

“Yes, sometimes. But it’s not that busy at the moment.”

“What about Saturday then? Can I text you tomorrow? Should be all sorted by then.”

“Sure, works for me.”

“Perfect! I'm afraid I gotta dash, they need me to go into make-up now. Oh, and Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“Will you be watching later?”

“I already told you that I watch your show every day,” Arthur says quietly and sounds embarrassed admitting this again, maybe he’s even blushing. Eames would feel bad for teasing him if it wasn’t so endearing. He also wants to know if the reason he watches every day is the one he wants it to be, so tries a more obvious approach.

“I know, just wanted to hear you say it again in your lovely voice. You like home shopping shows then?” Eames asks matter-of-factly and hopes Arthur will see right through it.

“No, I really don't.” Arthur laughs, lightly and sweet, so Eames hopes that they are finally on the same page here.

“That's all I needed to know, love,” Eames says fondly. “Right then, enjoy the show and I’ll see you soon, Arthur.”

“Yeah, see you soon,” Arthur repeats slowly and it sounds as if he doesn't quite believe it, as if he thinks he's dreaming.

Eames is more than happy to make this dream come true.

 


	3. Keep Calm and Be Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur stares at his phone for a very long minute. He doesn’t feel quite ready for a world where Eames just casually calls and texts him, although the thought that it might only last until they meet upsets him.

Arthur stares at his phone for a very long minute. He doesn’t feel quite ready for a world where Eames just casually calls and texts him, although the thought that it might only last until they meet upsets him.

Is it just Eames being nice? Eames is the charming type, at least as far as Arthur can tell, so it’s not like it means anything when he flirts with him on the phone, mentions him on the show and calls him names like _darling_. It can’t mean anything because they don’t fucking know each other, Arthur tells himself as he orders pizza.

Did Eames really hint he was interested in Arthur? Arthur realises that Eames charmed him right into spilling his creepy little stalker secret and seemed very pleased about it. He doesn’t even know what Arthur looks like. Even if he’s a nosy one and found the ridiculous picture Mal insisted on putting on their website, could Eames really be someone who desperately waited for opportunities like this to meet people? People who obviously have a bit of an obsessive streak? In Arthur’s eyes, Eames - beautiful, strong and quite simply downright the hottest person Arthur’s ever seen - could have anyone he wanted.

He calls Ari while he waits for the pizza to arrive and the show to start. Arthur updates her and she’s so proud of him, so excited for him and he’s not sure how she does it but she manages to convince him to be open for all possibilities.

“Arthur, I know for a fact that you’re a great guy and an amazing friend, just be yourself and play along. You’re not just your job and you should let yourself have some fun for once. You enjoy watching him on TV? So enjoy watching him in real life this weekend, if nothing else. When nothing comes of it, you can just go back to pining in front of the screen or even stop watching. Give him a chance, whether he’s just very dedicated to his fans or is indeed interested in getting to know you beyond this meeting.”

“I think I could try, yeah. But how am I supposed to behave now? Still order stuff? Answer his texts with emoticons? I’m so out of practice that I don’t even know where to start,” Arthur says, panic in his voice rising. He knows he’s a hopeless case and is grateful Ari is always so patient with him.

“See what he does and just go with it. If you feel like buying something, buy it, just like you did before. It’s that simple. If nothing happens after the meeting, then it was just a silly encounter with a really hot guy, and where’s the shame in that?”

“I’m going to make a fool of myself, Ari.”

“So what? You don’t have to see him again if you don’t want to, but you can enjoy it in the meantime,” Ari says in a way that makes it sound so easy.

“I don’t think it’s that easy for me, I’m probably too fucked already.” Arthur sighs, aware just how desperate he sounds. “Come on, you must have noticed this is more than a stupid crush? My apartment is bursting from all the stuff I bought just because it felt like it’s the closest I could ever get to him, and I don’t even _know_ him! I only watch him doing his job… I thought I’d never get to know him and now he phones me for fuck’s sake, wants to text me!”

“Oh Arthur,” she says in her soothing voice and he feels bad for being so dramatic. “Ok, new plan: flirt back, see how it feels and how he responds. Make the most of the time until you meet to get to know him better. Maybe even call him back when he texts you the details? Think you can do that?”

“No, I’m much better with words when I don’t have to actually say them.”

“That’s ok, it’ll be fine either way.”

When the doorbell rings he’s relieved to have a way out of the conversation, even if it’s helping just talking to her.

“Pizza’s just arrived. Talk to you tomorrow, ok? I’ll buy you coffee in the morning.”

“Just remember, be your lovely, grumpy and sassy self, ok?”

That makes Arthur smile and he’s laughing as he says his goodbye.

He can do this. He can be cool about this. He can be flirty and not be disappointed when it doesn’t go anywhere.

*

How is he supposed to be cool about this when Eames is on screen wearing indecently tight workout shorts? Ok, they probably weren’t meant to be that tight, it looks more like they’re just one size too small for his muscled thighs and his perfectly rounded ass which is jiggling lusciously while he demonstrates a treadmill. The training shirt he’s wearing on top is not much tighter than his usual shirts, so still loose enough to conceal most of the muscle movement underneath, but cut in a way that clearly indicates the slight swell of a delicious and very firm belly, Arthur’s number one weakness.

Couldn’t they have done a fitness and wellbeing episode last month? That would have been enough time for him to process this little bit of new information about Eames’ seemingly perfect physique. Maybe.

Eames is trying out most of the workout equipment, like sitting on the exercise bike for about 15 minutes, talking non-stop about the different settings and still not breaking a sweat. His thigh muscles flex rhythmically, pulling the fabric of the shorts impossibly tight. Arthur doesn’t know if he’s more impressed or turned on.

The heel of his hand that presses itself hard against his crotch answers the question.

Amongst the items today are also some really nice yoga pants which Arthur can actually put to good use since he goes to yoga class regularly.

It’s the first time he would buy something from Eames’ show that he would also buy even if Eames wasn’t the one selling it. He’s also aware that it can be interpreted as a confident attempt at flirting, buying tight gym pants and not the tacky sweat pants for example.

Arthur hesitates, but manages to be bold just long enough to order them, only to receive an ambiguous text from Eames five minutes after the show goes off air.

> _nice choice darling let me know how they fit ;)_

That a lack of punctuation and the use of emoticons would be Eames’ text style is not as surprising to Arthur as the confirmation that Eames indeed seems to be interested, if flirty texts like this are any indication. He thinks about his answer for far too long and hits send before it gets noticeable that he did think about it for too long.

> _They will definitely fit much better than those tiny shorts you wore today, thank you very much._
> 
>  
> 
> _well thats a shame really but I doubt you will look anything but stunning in them and apologise for the poor choices of the costume department today_

Arthur doesn’t know how to reply to this, it’s already been a few minutes and he’s still blushing. He is, however, unable to forget how snug those stupid shorts cupped Eames’ ass and well, what’s wrong with being honest about his attraction? Eames already suspects – no, definitely knows by now - anyway.

This is actually more fun than he thought it would be and since Eames started to send him texts like this, it’s most likely an invitation for Arthur to play along if he wants. He thinks about Ari’s advice, and he honestly doesn’t know what makes him type this, but apparently this is Arthur being Arthur.

> _I wasn’t saying I didn’t enjoy the view. It was a poor choice to showcase a too small exemplar because your viewers will all have bought much larger sizes than they usually would in fear of them not fitting. The result will be unsatisfied customers. I work in fashion and know shit like that._
> 
>  
> 
> _the satisfaction of my customer of the month was my main focus today_
> 
>  
> 
> _That the episode was visually pleasing is undeniable, but if the yoga pants live up to their promise remains to be seen._
> 
>  
> 
> _photographic evidence of satisfied customers is always welcome_

Eames innuendos of questionable taste via text are just as infuriating as they are on the show. They are also just as charming. Arthur decides to leave it at that for today before it ends up getting awkward. 

> _Go to sleep Mr Eames, today’s show was clearly exhausting and left you light headed._
> 
>  
> 
> _excellent advice before i make an even bigger idiot of myself. have sweet dreams then arthur_

Arthur winces because Eames can’t even make an effort to capitalise his name, but he’s honestly much too charmed by this whole exchange to care. Which is not very Arthurian at all.

*

Eames texts him around lunch time the next day and they agree to meet on Saturday. Not enough time to really think all this through, but enough to get nervous.

The messages are nothing but professional and friendly today, like Eames is actually afraid of behaving like an idiot. Arthur thinks it’s nonsense because if anyone here is an idiot, then it’s him for interpreting so much into just a few text messages.

Arthur eats sandwiches at his desk and doesn’t want the conversation to end after a few formal texts. He’s encouraged by last night’s exchange and wants to make the most of the time before they meet to make sure Eames will see more in him than his often described as icy exterior.

He eyes the Keep Calm and Drink Tea mug on his desk, snaps a photo and sends it to Eames with the caption:

> _You requested pictures. Most used item from your show so far._

Arthur regrets it the second he hits send because it’s dorky and looks exactly like the desperate attempt to keep up the conversation that it is. 

> _oh arthur how delightful :D even though it looks like you are drinking coffee from it which I hope wont lead to the mug having an identity crisis_

Arthur is still smiling over this when another text arrives. The attached photo of Eames grinning toothily at him and wearing a dark beanie catches him by surprise. Arthur looks at the picture closely. The hat seems tiny on Eames’ beautifully shaped head, it only reaches half over his ears and makes Eames’ grin look impossibly wide.

> _i get some of the cheap stuff from the show for free but this is really one of the only things I actually use because its still bloody freezing here_

This should probably provoke him into sending a picture of himself as well, but Arthur figures teasing would make things more interesting.

> _If you think I’m sending pictures of my face to men who can’t even be bothered to capitalise my name in a text message, you are wrong, Mr Eames. Need to get back to work, don’t catch a cold before Saturday!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Oh Arthur! Had I known this was the way to your heart, I’d have made an effort earlier. However, I also have my principles and think that time is too precious to waste in properly typed text messages that will end up in the void as soon as you delete them. also im lazy_

Arthur laughs out loud at this. If Eames only knew he’d found the way into his heart already, simply by doing his job, and that Arthur now wants to save his texts for eternity just to prove that nice spelling is not a waste of time.

In the evening, ten minutes before the show, Arthur takes a picture of the watch on his wrist, resting on his knee. He thinks it’s both, innocent and teasing, and doesn’t reveal too much. If Eames is just a bit short of breath and kind of giggly during the first minutes of the show, Arthur tries to tell himself it has nothing to do with him.

He fails when Eames on screen puts on leather gardening gloves, winks into the camera and says, _“My hands are rough, but these are excellent to protect all the delicate, beautiful hands out there from the wild outdoors and it also keeps expensive watches safe from scratches of all kind.”_

Arthur ends up ordering the gloves even though he doesn’t even have an indoor plant, he just doesn’t know a better way to respond.

*

Friday is a bit different, they write texts back and forth all day, only now it’s more of an exchange of actual information. Like they are just casually chatting along, getting to know each other. It’s nice and easy and Arthur doesn’t even double check his replies.

Arthur tells Eames about his job because Eames asks where his mug lives. In return he learns that the show is meant to be only a temporary job for Eames because he hopes to go back to act on Broadway. Arthur hopes his surprise and awe doesn’t translate into his texts, but he fears it kind of does. Eames is of course very humble about it all, saying that he can’t be that good an actor because he ended up on a home shopping channel.

An hour before the show starts, when Arthur is on his way home, another text chimes in.

> _this is bloody ridiculous Arthur :( the show is going to be about car accessories and i dont even have a fucking drivers licence_

Arthur smiles at his capitalised name. Apart from this, Eames’ texting style hasn’t changed since Arthur had mentioned it.

On screen, Eames oozes self-confidence and it’s strange that he apparently trusts Arthur enough to talk to him about his insecurities. The feeling to be needed by Eames is intoxicating - he’d never thought Eames would need _him_ , of all people, for anything - and he types eagerly to cheer him up.

> _Come on, you’ve got this because you’re a good actor. Did you know anything about gardening?_
> 
> _no_
> 
> _It certainly looked like you did yesterday._
> 
> _really?_
> 
> _Yeah, really. You made me buy the stupid gardening gloves when I don’t even have a garden!_
> 
> _its not my fault they reminded me of your sexy picture_
> 
> _It wasn’t a sexy picture, Eames. It was a picture of my watch. On my wrist._
> 
> _has no one ever told you that you have very sexy hands?_
> 
> _No, I guess not._
> 
> _someone should do it and i volunteer :D you have very sexy hands Arthur_
> 
> _Shouldn’t you go and get ready? You’ll be amazing as always._
> 
> _thank you Arthur :)_
> 
> _Anytime._

Arthur knows he’s blushing and hopes he can pull himself together tomorrow should Eames say things like this to him in person.

Eames is, of course, brilliant as always, and Arthur indulges in his usual swooning over basically everything that Eames says and does and touches. He buys a first aid kit because Eames calls it _a real lifesaver, just like my Arthur_.

Ari sends him a text containing two heart emoticons a few seconds later.

Maybe tomorrow won’t be a total disaster after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice visual of [Eames in tight workout shorts](http://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/post/134877763858/thas-fandom-blagmagazine-back-by-popular), if you are interested...


	4. Keep Calm and Kiss the Host

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is running late, which is ridiculous because Arthur is never late. But then, Arthur usually doesn’t hop in and out of outfits in front of the mirror either, because he has outfits for every occasion. He’s just never had a “meeting Eames for the first time” occasion before.

Arthur is running late, which is ridiculous because Arthur is never late. But then, Arthur usually doesn’t hop in and out of outfits in front of the mirror either, because he has outfits for every occasion. He’s just never had a “meeting Eames for the first time” occasion before and doesn’t even know what they’re going to do after they meet at the coffeehouse. Maybe nothing, maybe one of the things Arthur has on his list for today, maybe dinner. So what to wear?

In the end he settles on the outfit Ari picked for him, trusting her judgement, style and skill. After all, she’d designed the hazelnut coloured sweater and the shirt with the fine, very light beige check and said at least then he could blame her if anything went wrong. Arthur picks matching suit trousers and after staring at his tie collection too long, a polka dot tie to add a playful touch. He briefly thought about forgoing the tie, but he already feels half-naked without the snug feeling of a waistcoat hugging his chest. Ari had also said he should be himself, and he doesn’t feel like himself going out without a tie.

When it comes to choosing a jacket, he only has five minutes left to make a ten minute walk so without thinking much further, he grabs the brown leather jacket and runs down the stairs.

When Arthur arrives at the coffeehouse with his heart beating much too fast - because he’s nervous _and_ he more or less ran the entire way - Eames is already there. His heart stops abruptly, then skips a painful beat before it hammers away even harder in his chest.

Eames’ face lights up when he spots him, he beams at Arthur from the table in the quiet corner. It’s Arthur’s favourite - away from the windows, round table and comfortable leather armchairs - which somehow calms him enough to smile back. It’s a shy smile because this is all so unreal and he knows he dimples when Eames’ eyes drop briefly to his cheeks and then up again, with even more endearing wrinkles around them as his smile impossibly grows.

Eames’ hair is a little shorter than it was in last night’s episode, neatly combed, and he’s clean shaven. He wears a black polo shirt with a patterned collar, short sleeved as always despite the early spring chill outside, and dark jeans. A linen jacked is draped over the armchair opposite him, which he obviously reserved for Arthur.

Eames stands up and takes the jacket from the chair, offering Arthur with one of his elegant little moves to sit down.

Arthur is still standing a little bit lost in the doorway and walks over with this stupid dimpling smile on his face and a knot in his stomach. Then he just stands there at the table - just as lost and with his hands in his jacket pockets - and doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Eames doesn’t seem to mind, he offers Arthur his hand and an easy smile, and Arthur would take both if he could. Eames’ handshake is something between a gentle caress and firm pressure, he touches Arthur’s upper arm with his other hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Arthur, it’s so lovely to meet you.” He sounds so sincere and genuine Arthur could weep.

“Hey,” Arthur manages still breathless.

Arthur sits down before he can do something stupid, like faint for example, because Eames is even more beautiful in reality than he is on TV.

“What can I get you, darling?” There’s that word again, the word he can’t forget and Arthur looks at his hands in his lap when Eames continues. “You’re a regular here? Know what’s good?”

Arthur looks up again and Eames is studying the menu closely.

“Yeah um, I usually drink espresso here during the week, but at the weekend I can’t resist the moccachino.” And there he goes, already sounding pathetic with his boring coffeehouse schedule.

“Excellent, I’ll be right back,” Eames says and Arthur dies a little because the wink is already hard to process when it’s only on screen and not directed at him personally. Who even winks like that all the time? Is that something cool people do?

Arthur shrugs out of his jacket and takes a deep breath, hoping getting their drinks takes Eames long enough that he can compose himself, at least to some degree. It helps that they’re sitting at his table and he takes some more calming breaths, sinking back into the familiar cushions.

Eames comes back, tray laden with a plate full of different kinds of cookies and their drinks. Arthur giggles because he looks hilarious trying to balance it all and gets up to take their moccachinos before Eames spills everything.

“Hungry, are you?” Arthur laughs and forgets to feel awkward.

“I’ve got a sweet tooth, if you must know. But don’t worry, I’ll share.” Eames sits down again, re-arranges the cookies somewhat nicely and puts the plate in the middle of the table.

“You’ve got a sweet tooth and a nosy nose, because you recognised me even though I’ve never sent you a picture of my face.”

“I googled you.” Eames couldn’t look more unashamed if he tried.

“I don’t think anyone has ever googled me. Um, other than myself, of course.”

“Well, I have, and it was worth clicking through 15 pages of search results.”

Arthur blushes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to control it with Eames sitting so close and smelling damn edible. Eames must notice because he saves him, changing the subject smoothly.

“Got any ideas what you want to do today? The friend I’m staying at gave me free tickets for a play she’s in, if you’re interested, but that would mean we still have lots of the budget to spend.”

Arthur had contemplated going to the theatre as well. They wouldn’t have to talk during the play, saving them in case they ran out of things to talk about, and since it’s something that interests Eames, he’d probably want to discuss it later so the conversation should be easy afterwards.

“Theatre sounds great, thought about that as well, actually. There is an outdoor art exhibit in a nearby park today, if you like that?” Arthur hates how unsure he sounds, it’s a nice idea even if Eames doesn’t want to go.

“Lovely idea Arthur, I could pay all the starving artists there to paint portraits of you. Capturing your beauty on canvas sounds like just the thing to do with the network’s money.”

If Eames hadn’t wiggled his eyebrows at that, Arthur might have managed not to blush even deeper this time. He hides behind his cup and grabs a chocolate cookie. Arthur is glad that Eames seems to be a pro at manoeuvring awkward first date conversations. Is this even a date? He still isn’t sure, only ever referred to it as a meeting in his efforts to avoid disappointment.

“So, as an espresso lover, tell me, are those tiny cups you bought good at all? I’ve never had an espresso before that, because it’s really just a sip, isn’t it? I rather like to savour my hot beverages for a few minutes and not just for a second or two.”

“It’s all about efficiency and quality, if you ask me. The cups arrived yesterday but I haven’t used them yet,” Arthur says, distracted by a cookie crumb on Eames' lower lip.

“Ah, well, then let me know when you try them,” Eames says, licking away the crumb with the tip of his tongue.

“I’d have to buy an espresso machine first because I abhor instant coffee.”

Arthur can’t believe the words that just poured from his lips. Can’t believe he just said that, knowing it implies yet again that he buys things from Eames’ show he doesn’t even have use for - and more importantly - can’t believe that he doesn’t care he said it because Eames’ laugh is infectious. It’s a low and friendly rumble that Arthur can feel down to his toes.

“What? Oh Arthur! Ok, so here’s what we do, yeah?” Eames points at him with a cranberry cookie and waits until Arthur nods. “We go out and buy you an espresso machine, a fancy one, with a grinder for high quality beans. Then have a stroll through the park because that sounds brilliant. We’ll need to grab something to eat before the play but we’ll find something. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect,” says Arthur. And it's not really perfect because he can pay for a fucking coffee machine himself if he wanted one and should say so, but Eames looks giddy with anticipation so Arthur doesn’t say it and eats another cookie instead.

He can have fun, he can be himself, because he’s with Eames today.

Before they leave Eames gives Arthur the network’s gift bag and Arthur tries to look unaffected when Eames films it all with his own phone. He gets impossibly close to get them both in the frame. Arthur will have to look away when they air this, doesn’t need to see himself all flustered on TV.

Eames leads him outside with his hand on the small of Arthur’s back, a warm pressure that makes his heart flutter.

*

“You seem to know an awful lot about coffee machines for someone who doesn’t actually have one,” Eames says, looking impressed. “Why don’t you have one when you seem to love coffee so much?”

“I’m not at home very often, the coffee place is around the corner on my way to work and I like it there. It’s practical.” Arthur walks along the display, eyeing every machine very closely. “I do spend a lot of time at the office where the coffee is terrible, but I have to drink it to stay awake when there’s too much work. If I’d drink one more in the evening at home, I’d never be able to fall asleep.”

“All valid points, but if we were on a date, like today, and I’d walk you home, you wouldn’t be able to invite me in for a coffee.”

Arthur blinks at the machine in front of him.

“I’ll take this one,” Arthur says to the machine.

Arthur buys the espresso beans himself. It’s weird enough letting Eames pay for the machine, even if he knows technically it’s his prize. He has an iron grip on the bag in his hand when Eames offers to carry it for him, but the weight grounds him in reality, convincing him that the last hour hadn’t just been a daydream.

*

Once in the park and surrounded by painting and crafting artists, Arthur stops overthinking every word that comes out of his mouth and the conversation flows smoothly. They laugh and talk and Arthur is enjoying it, maybe too much so because Eames is not only devastatingly gorgeous in real life, he’s also really nice. Smart as well, and Arthur wants to know Eames’ opinions, wants to discuss them with him, to agree and disagree at length about anything and everything.

“Oh Arthur, I forgot about the flowers,” Eames blurts out suddenly and walks over to an early spring flower bed and kneels down to pick a daffodil. When he comes back and puts the flower into the breast pocket of Arthur’s leather jacket, he’s close enough for Arthur to smell his spicy aftershave.

“There you go,” Eames mumbles satisfied and pats his chest. “They told me to get you flowers and this one suits you beautifully.”

Just as Arthur inhales to say something that would’ve most likely been embarrassing, someone behind them calls Eames’ name and Eames steps away, turning around.

“Eames? Hey, Eames!”

“Paul, hello! Good to see you. How’s business?”

Eames gives the artist a brief hug and Arthur stays put a few feet away.

“Ah, I survive. Are you in town again?”

“Nah, sadly not. Just visiting my friend Arthur here.”

Eames turns, reaches out and pulls Arthur in by laying an arm across his shoulders, which he somehow forgets to remove again once Arthur stands closer.

Arthur raises his hand in an awkward wave as a silent greeting and to Arthur’s discomfort, Paul grins knowingly.

“You know I like you Eames, but I’m kind of glad to hear that,” Paul says and then faces Arthur again, shields his mouth from Eames’ view, pretending Eames won’t be able to hear him like this. “He used to take all the best spots to paint in town, it wasn’t easy to keep up with him and his tricks.”

Arthur’s face lights up on its own accord, the same as it does every time he learns something new and exciting about Eames.

“You’re an artist?” Arthur asks, his voice heavy with all the admiration he’s no longer able to hide.

“I wouldn’t call it that, really. I just needed something that would pay my rent between acting jobs.”

“Don’t listen to him, he had the best strategy of all of us! He would ask people who their favourite artist was and then draw them into one of their paintings. Oh and believe me, there was no one he couldn’t copy flawlessly, even with quick charcoal sketches.”

Arthur raises a challenging eyebrow at Eames, because now he wants proof.

“Can you still do that?”

The protective arm around Arthur’s back lifts away and Eames squares his massive shoulders, looking at Arthur from under his lashes and manages to look both, impressive and sweet at the same time.

“’course I can. Paul, can I borrow your supplies for a while?”

“Sure, it’s all yours, man. I need a coffee break anyway. Have fun boys.” Paul grins at Arthur, obviously pleased he caught on so fast and vanishes in the crowd.

“Well then, darling. What’s your favourite painter?”

“Escher.” Arthur answers promptly and sits down on the folding chair facing the easel.

Eames huffs, as if that had been somehow obvious, takes one of the charcoal pencils and begins to draw. He doesn’t look at Arthur often, is absorbed in his work for long minutes, but when he does they lock eyes for a few intense seconds before Eames again focusses on the paper in front of him.

Arthur isn’t shy about watching him, how he draws lines sure and practised and how he smears the charcoal with his thumb just so. His favourite thing is when Eames bites his bottom lip, frowns at the paper and cocks his head, studying the paper before him.  

When Eames steps back from the easel, Arthur is amazed that he’s finished already. Eames eyes his work sceptically, but then nods in satisfaction towards Arthur. He gets up and steps beside him to look at the drawing and is at a total loss for words.

It’s a really good copy of Escher’s Cycle, and Arthur knows this because he’s got a print hanging in his living room. Eames only sketched the background landscape roughly, but the rest is stunningly accurate. The figure descending the stairs of the tower clearly resembles Arthur, dressed in a suit and with neat, slicked back hair. Only he’s drawn him running down the stairs in an elegant and powerful way, not awkward like the original figure. The Arthur in the picture runs down the steps, each version less detailed than the former, until he morphs into some kind of pattern that repeats itself on the bottom of the picture. The plant on the window still on one of the top balconies of the tower is a daffodil.

“Wow…” It’s the only word Arthur gets out before Paul comes back.

Eames’ posture relaxes when Arthur grins in approval. He touches his shoulder in passing before going over to talk to Paul, leaving Arthur to stare at the drawing some more. It’s absolutely stunning and drawn with so much love in the detail that Arthur has difficulties tearing his eyes away.

Arthur snaps back to reality when Paul takes the drawing and rolls it, placing it into a cardboard tube for him.

Eames manages to convince Paul that he’s going to pay for the painting he’s drawn himself, because he knows how hard the business is and Paul might have lost a customer while Eames was at work.

Then they are on their way again, strolling slowly through the park while the sun is already starting to set. After a little while Eames stops at the edge of the park and gestures to the other side of the road. It’s the little Venezuelan place that is on Arthur’s list of possible places to eat in the area and he suddenly realises how hungry he is.

“I’m beginning to think you can read my mind,” Arthur says, laughing a little.

“Now that would be interesting, wouldn’t it? But no, I’m simply good at reading people, all your little secrets are safe. I skipped breakfast in order to get a decent haircut for you, it’s why I really need something more than coffee and cookies now.”

“Come on then, my starving artist,” Arthur says.

They cross the street, shoulders brushing with each step.

*

They take a cab to the theatre, stopping briefly at Arthur’s flat so he can drop off the bags. Arthur uses the time alone to freshen up a bit, he has no idea how the rest of the evening will go and what might happen, which makes him a little nervous again. The day has been wonderful so far and he’s afraid he could ruin it by either expecting too much or too less.

It’s a small theatre and their knees are touching when they sit down. Eames doesn’t seem to mind but Arthur squirms around, trying to find a comfortable way of sitting in the little chair but soon relaxes when Eames flings an arm around the back of Arthur’s chair casually.

All these little advances throughout the day, the touches and the winks, it all should make Arthur want to roll his eyes at how corny Eames is, instead warmth pools in his belly every time. The thought that he’s going to miss it - miss him - doesn’t even shock Arthur, and he scoots as close towards Eames as his chair allows.

The play turns out to be a dark comedy and has Arthur laughing out loud a few times. During the intermission Eames gets them wine from the overpriced bar in the foyer and Arthur giggles into his glass while Eames tells him old backstage stories which are probably mostly made up, but still funny.

Someone calls Eames’ name again because apparently, half the city knows him. It turns out to be the friend who gave him the tickets and who is now peeking her head out from behind the stage curtain. Eames waves at her, then gives her a dorky thumbs up before she vanishes again.

Eames’ offer to walk him home takes him by surprise, but Arthur, a little tipsy now, agrees. It’s quite far but time flies as they talk about the play and random things that Eames weaves into the conversation effortlessly. It’s never been easier for Arthur to talk to anyone else because he can count on Eames filling every awkward silence before they even get awkward, or distract him with ridiculous facts so Arthur forgets to worry about what to say and just laughs along.

They talk and laugh until they are at Arthur’s doorstep and suddenly, all the previous ease is forgotten again. He panics. The day was perfect, Eames is perfect in every sense, and still Arthur doesn’t know what to do. He thinks about what Eames expects from him, what he wants for himself, what is appropriate, and feels at a loss entirely.

Which is when Eames leans in, slowly but not hesitantly, and kisses Arthur. Closed mouthed, sweet and lingering. Eames’ big hand cups his jaw tenderly and his lips move just a little against Arthur’s own. Arthur presses his mouth against the soft heat and a keening noise escapes him.

“Do you want to come up for coffee?” Arthur asks hastily, thinking about Eames' earlier remark, and Eames pulls back to touch their foreheads together. His look is intense, as if he’s searching for his own answer in Arthur’s eyes. Arthur’s hand got somehow tangled up in Eames’ shirt at his side and he holds on tight for a second, but lets go when Eames’ gaze drops to the floor between them.

“Next time, darling,” Eames breathes against Arthur’s lips before kissing them again. Then he brushes his thumb over Arthur’s cheek, steps back and walks away, his head tucked low between his shoulders.

Arthur’s hand lifts up, touching the spot on his cheek that Eames’ had left seconds ago. He feels his own dimple appearing when Eames looks back briefly to smile and wave his goodbye at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [M.C. Escher - Cycle](http://www.mcescher.com/gallery/switzerland-belgium/cycle/)


	5. Keep Calm and Smile for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking away from Arthur - though from the look he saw in Arthur’s eyes he knows they’ll see each other again soon - had almost been physically painful. As though ties have already started to wrap around them and stretch tighter and tighter with each step he takes away from him.

When Eames turns around a second time, Arthur is no longer standing on the sidewalk. The night air is cool so he buttons up his jacket and releases the breath he’s definitely been holding for far too long.

Walking away from Arthur - though from the look he saw in Arthur’s eyes he knows they’ll see each other again soon - had almost been physically painful. As though ties have already started to wrap around them and stretch tighter and tighter with each step he takes away from him.

But it had been the right thing to do. He’s done some foolish things in his time, like choosing the easy way out more often than not, or giving his heart away much too quickly. What he’s learned from all of that, is you should never, ever rush the best things. And Arthur seems pretty much like the best thing in Eames’ life so far.

Arthur hadn’t been disappointed when he’d declined the offer of coffee, despite Eames’ earlier rather rash and idiotic line. It had been one of his more desperate attempts to show Arthur, whose interest in Eames was adoringly obvious, that the feeling was mutual. Though it was possible it might have given Arthur the idea that Eames was only interested in a one-night stand. He might have thought it would be his only chance with Eames, or worse, that Eames expected him to ask.

When Eames had said no, Arthur looked somewhat relieved. Relieved not to be rushed, relieved in the knowledge that there would be a next time, and just as glad as Eames to have time to think everything through.

Eames quietly lets himself into Tessa’s flat with the key he still carries around out of familiarity. He’s glad he decided to walk again, it definitely cleared his head a bit. Padding quietly into the bathroom he gets ready for the night. Once flopped down on Tessa’s sofa, where she’d laid out a pillow and a blanket for him, he knows he’ll be unable to fall asleep soon and stares up at the ceiling. His thoughts are clearer now, but they still race around his head and most of them are Arthur shaped. Eames wonders if Arthur’s already asleep or if he’s doing the same, thinking about Eames and the lovely time they’ve spent together, or something less innocent maybe.

He reaches for his phone. It would be nice to let Arthur know he’s thinking about him, wouldn’t it? Eames hesitates a second, hoping it’s not too much too soon, but types the message anyway.

> _sweet dreams my darling Arthur x_

The answer comes promptly and makes Eames chuckle into his pillow.

> _If I manage to fall asleep anytime soon, I’ll most likely dream about you. Will let you know if it was sweet or something else._

*

Eames sits at the breakfast bar, eating cereal and thinking about the curve of Arthur’s jaw when Tessa comes into the kitchen in her tacky old bathrobe, towelling off her hair. It reminds him of the good old times and he grins at her when she huffs in his direction.

“Still a disgustingly cheerful morning person, I see. Can’t say I missed seeing your grinning face in the mornings. New roommate works nights at the hospital, hardly ever see her. It’s nice.”

His grin only widens while she frowns, he’s really missed living here.

“And you still have fruit loops. Some things never change,” Eames says delightedly as he stuffs another spoonful into his mouth.

“Pretty sure that’s just one of your old packages that survived here somewhere in the depth of the cabinets.”

Eames looks suspiciously into the bowl, shrugs and then continues to eat.

“They contain too much sugar to ever go bad,” he says before he swallows.

“You are disgusting.” But now she’s laughing, just like he knew she would. “I’m surprised you’re here at all, to be honest. I saw the way he looked at you, and the way you looked back. Thought you’d be all over each other once the play was over.”

“Arthur,” he pauses because he knows what he’s going to say sounds idiotic, but it’s what he’s caught himself thinking more than once. “He’s special. I don’t want to mess this up before it’s even started, so I’m not rushing anything, is all.”

“Eames, as sweet and grown-up as that sounds, knowing your history I’m not sure I like what I’m hearing.”

“It’s not like that, I’m… This has nothing to do with what Carl always said.”

“It has everything to do with what fucking Carl always said. Eames, we talked about this, we established he was a total dick and didn’t deserve you one bit.”

He should have known that she’d bring up Carl. She always brings up Carl when she thinks that he’s playing a role for someone he likes, which is - to be fair - something he used to do. Hiding parts of his personality to become exactly what a person wants because that makes it easier, initially. He didn’t do it yesterday, because at no point had he felt what Arthur wanted was someone he wasn’t. Arthur who had laughed at terrible jokes, had blushed shyly at his cheesy compliments and leant into his touch at every opportunity.

“I know, I know. It’s different, we don’t even know each other that well yet. Yesterday was the first time we met, actually.”

“Yeah, it did look different. Your Arthur looked like he would happily climb into your lap and snuggle with you all day and he absolutely started to glow when you put your arm around him. I watched you all evening, you can’t deny anything.”

“Yeah, I did that, didn’t I? I don’t even really notice when I do it, I just do. It’s what Carl hated most, even more than the cuddling and everything else.”

Carl hadn’t liked it when Eames was affectionate, or had wanted affection in return. So he’d tried to be a version of himself that didn’t do public displays of affection, didn’t need to snuggle in front of the TV or during the night. Even if pretending to be someone else was his job - and Eames has always loved his job - but doing it 24 hours a day had been bloody tiring. So after a while he’d stopped, and Carl had left.

“Oh Eames… Come on, tell me the whole Arthur story. Just let me get my coffee first.”

Tessa makes them two cups of instant coffee and Eames winces on Arthur’s behalf when he takes the first sip. She nods at him, somewhat impatiently.

“I won’t tell you that I’m happy for you before you’ve told me everything.”

Eames knows she won’t let this go, but he’s missed her and is happy to finally have someone to share everything with. He ends up telling her all the little embarrassing details, there is a price for a night on her sofa after all.

*

A few minutes into his bus ride back to Boston, Eames’ phone buzzes in his trouser pocket. It almost slips from his hand because he’s so eager to read the message. He’d been waiting all morning for Arthur to start a conversation, afraid of annoying him because he knows he can be a bit much sometimes, and also wanting to give him time to think about everything without adding any pressure.

> _I dreamt I owned a flower shop and you came in to order coffee every day until I finally bought a machine so you could buy coffee in my flower shop. You tell me what the fuck that means._
> 
> _thats easy darling :) it means you have a blooming and colourful personality and that you’ve yet to make me a lovely espresso from your fancy new machine to show me the joys of efficient caffeine input_
> 
> _Easy to accomplish. You just have to stay at mine, next time._
> 
> _thats an offer I cant possibly decline for a second time Arthur :D_

A few seconds later, because there is still an awfully bitter aftertaste in his mouth, he adds:

> _tessa only had instant coffee :(_
> 
> _I’m deeply sorry to hear that. Will you survive?_
> 
> _would you miss me if i dont?_
> 
> _Terribly._
> 
> _i feel better already :)_
> 
> _If you make it until tonight, would it be ok if I called you?_
> 
> _Arthur it would be absolutely terrific if you called :) you don’t have to ask_
> 
> _I’m not good at phone calls or talking in general, as you probably noticed. It’s why I wanted to make sure._
> 
> _thats utter rubbish and i want you to know that frequent calls from you would make me the happiest man in the world_
> 
> _Thanks for making me feel a little less pathetic._
> 
> _you have absolutely no idea how lovely you are_
> 
> _No, but I admit it’s nice that you keep reminding me._
> 
> _i wish i could prove it with a kiss_
> 
> _Next time, remember? Tell me when you get back home and I’ll call you._
> 
> _yes Arthur x_

Instead of catching up on lost sleep Eames gets out his sketchbook and doodles five pages of Arthur. Arthur smiling, Arthur drinking coffee, Arthur behind the counter of a flower shop full of daffodils, smiling, holding out a cup of coffee. He snaps a picture of the last one, but doesn’t send it yet.

Eames sighs against the window and his breath fogs the glass for a brief moment. He’s not driving back home, he’s leaving it. For someone who’s travelled as much as he has, it’s an astonishing thing to realise that he thinks of New York as home - now even more than when he’d actually lived there.

*

  
Arthur on the phone is the sweetest. Eames can tell he’s nervous again at first, that’s why he tells him that he stole the gym shorts from the set last week to distract him.

“You did not!”

“I did indeed.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you said you liked the view, which was a very flattering compliment, and I thought if you’d ever like to enjoy that view up close, I’d better take them with me.”

“Oh.”

The ice is well and truly broken after that, they talk for two long hours and only stop because Arthur says he has yoga class today.

“Fine,” Eames sighs theatrically into the phone. “I guess in the end I can only profit from the enhanced flexibility of your body.”

“Jesus Eames, you are unbelievable,” Arthur laughs and he sounds genuinely amused. Eames considers himself very fortunate now that he’s seen Arthur’s amused face in person and can picture it perfectly.

“Arthur, before you hang up on me, and you really should because I just opened my third beer and it’ll only make it worse, I drew something for you. You want to see it?”

“Of course I want to see it! Shit, I never really thanked you for the Escher drawing. Honestly, you are amazing, thank you.”

“It was my absolute pleasure, Arthur.” Now it’s Eames’ turn to blush, apparently Arthur’s compliments do that to him. “You get ready for your class and I’ll send you the picture, yes?”

“Alright, can’t wait. Eames I… I wish we could just meet again tomorrow.”

“I know, love. If you want me, I’ll visit you again next Saturday on the earliest bus.”

“I could come to you too, you know. We should talk about these things. To make it work, I mean.”

“Yeah, we should. Not now though, you have to go stretch your luscious limbs.” Eames is never going to stop saying things like this if they make Arthur laugh out loud.

“Eames!”

“Sorry. Honestly Arthur, I’m fine coming to you, I don’t mind the bus or train.”

“Ok, just let’s really talk about it at some point, it’s important. And never apologise, your lines are terrible but entertaining. Talk to you soon, ok?”

“Very soon, darling. Have fun.”

It takes a while for Arthur to reply after Eames mails him the image of the dream drawing, his class must be over by now and he fears that maybe he should slow down before he scares Arthur away. But as soon as he receives the reply - a distracting picture of Arthur wearing his yoga clothes attached - he stops worrying.

> _It’s not accurate, in my dream I scowled at you. You leant onto the counter of my flower shop, leered and winked while I made you coffee from the machine I only bought for you. You stole a daffodil - and I didn’t mention that detail so you do read minds - every day and each time I scowled at you. Because that’s what I usually do, that’s how people see me - it’s how I see myself. I can’t even begin to tell you how happy it makes me that you don’t see me like that. Thank you for making me smile, I hope I can make you smile in return._

*

Eames mails Yusuf the video of Arthur receiving the gift bag on Monday morning. His answer is simply: “You’ve got it bad. The both of you.” Eames chuckles, because he’s aware, he watched the video approximately a hundred times on his journey back until his phone battery almost died and he’d had to plug it in before Arthur’s call. But it’s the only footage they have so they’ll have to air it, no matter how giddy and lovestruck they behaved.

The week passes slowly. They establish a routine of texting during the day, a short phone call when Arthur leaves the office and before Eames has to go and prepare for that night's show, and then long phone calls after.

Eames continues to make Arthur-references while he talks about certain products, and Arthur, because apparently that’s their thing now, continues to buy said products. Apart from the cork cup coaster with the smiley face on it. Eames tells the audience that he’s going to buy it for him because Arthur should not only remember to keep calm and drink tea at all times, but also to keep smiling for him. Arthur doesn’t mention it afterwards, but his goodnight text that day contains one smiling emoticon.

On Wednesday morning Eames’ agent calls with unexpected but very welcome news. She got him an audition for a lead role on Broadway. The lead actor had had to pull out of the role at the last minute.

Full of nervous energy he calls Arthur.

“Eames? Everything alright?”

“Yes, yes love, just need to talk to you for a sec. You free?”

“Yeah, I’m at the office, but it’s ok. Sure you are alright?” He sounds mildly alarmed but Eames is unable to tone down his excitement.

“I can’t make it to lunch with you on Saturday.”

“That’s um, that’s fine, really. I told you, you don’t have to come down here again and if you have other plans…”

“No, oh darling no, that’s not what I’m saying at all! I’d always come for you, even if you were further away than a few hour bus drive.”

“Oh, ok…” Arthur says, taken aback. Eames feels the urge to pick him up and hold him until all the insecurity is gone. He continues, calmer now, because he needs to be more careful with Arthur.

“Arthur, what I wanted to say is, that I’ll be a little late because I have an audition in the city at noon, but I’ll come over right after that. I promise, as soon as I can.”

“Wow Eames, that’s great news! I mean it’s what you want, right?” Arthur’s voice lights up and when Eames closes his eyes he can see the dimples appearing on both cheeks.

His initial euphoria dies down even more as the realisation grounds him that yes, it’s what he’s always wanted, but now it’s more important than ever because it also means he would be closer to Arthur, as close as Arthur is willing to let him.

“Yes, it’s what I want,” Eames says, feeling very calm and very happy.


	6. Keep Calm and Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur opens the door at the same moment as Eames was about to knock, his extended arm now lowering to grip the doorframe when he sees the door opening. Then he leans heavily on it, catching his breath, and Arthur forgets how to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darlings, this is the last chapter, but I'm going to post a little epilogue soon. 
> 
> Hugs for everyone, the support and love I received from all of you blew me away!  
> Special thanks to hoopedoodle and chasingriver, generally for being super supportive but especially for their help with this chapter, kate-the-reader and deadbeforeithappens for always cheering me on so sweetly, and Erasmus_Jones for all your work!

Arthur stirs his bolognese, possibly for the hundredth time, and puts the lid back on the pot with a sigh. They’d decided to have a late lunch after Eames’ audition and Arthur had offered to cook something. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to cook, it was just that he never really fancied cooking just for one. Besides, when he gets home from work these days, there simply isn’t enough time to cook something decent before Eames’ show starts, which means he’d barely cooked at all this year.

Spaghetti bolognese is both easy to make and something almost everyone loves, so he can’t go wrong with that. It’s also the perfect meal when you don’t know when your date is going to arrive, even though Ari had warned him that a guy once managed to get tomato sauce all over _her_ shirt while sucking in the pasta in a more disgusting than sexy manner. Arthur doubted Eames’ mouth was even capable of doing anything in a non-sexy manner and stuck to his plan.

Huffing nervously he stirs the sauce one more time, turns the burner beneath the pan to low heat and falls onto his couch.

The rain that had started as a light spring shower is now splashing loudly against his window. Eames is probably having difficulties getting a cab in this weather, or the audition is taking much longer than anticipated.

Arthur has spent the last few days imagining the impact on his life if Eames gets the role. Their phone calls have become more intimate, and even though they haven’t really talked about it, they’ve both hinted at where they want their relationship to lead. What had started as the beginning of a long-distance relationship now held the promise for so much more. Arthur still can’t work out how they’d even managed to get to this point in only a week.

Arthur is lost in thought staring at Eames’ drawing that hangs on his wall, having replaced his old print first thing on Sunday morning, when his doorbell shrills angrily three times in a row and he nearly falls off the couch.

He sprints towards his front door, heart already pounding hard in his chest in anticipation.

“Hey, come up! Fifth floor, last door in the hallway,” Arthur says into the speaker as nonchalantly as he possibly can - which is not very nonchalant at all - as he buzzes Eames in.

“On my way,” Eames’ voice says distantly, the noise of the rain outside making it impossible to read whether Eames has good or bad news.

Arthur leans his forehead against the closed door, hoping to calm himself enough that he doesn’t look like an overexcited kitten at seeing Eames again. Only a few moments later there is a rumbling sound in the hallway which means Eames didn’t wait for the elevator but ran up the stairs.

Arthur opens the door at the same moment as Eames was about to knock, his extended arm now lowering to grip the doorframe when he sees the door opening. Then he leans heavily on it, catching his breath, and Arthur forgets how to breathe.

Eames is absolutely soaking wet, water dripping down the beautiful length of his nose. He gives Arthur an exhausted but rakish grin from under his lashes and Arthur can’t do anything but stare at Eames, eyes raking up and down his body, taking in everything. There is a puddle on the floor where his jacket drapes over his bag, dripping water onto the wood, and the white V-neck t-shirt is so wet it clings to his muscular form like a second skin. The rain has made it translucent now and Arthur can clearly make out letters and images in dark ink beneath.

“Darling, we could stand here and look at each other all day, but…” Eames says, amused and still a little bit out of breath.

Arthur is aware that he’s staring, that he hasn’t actually said anything, but Eames’ nipples are rubbing perkily against his wet shirt as he moves, stepping closer, and what is Arthur supposed to do other than grab a handful of damp cotton and reel Eames in.

“The hell we can,” Arthur mutters before he kisses Eames’ moist lips and pulls him inside. He kicks the door shut with his foot and doesn’t even think, just puts his arms around Eames’ neck, tugs, and a heartbeat later his legs are curled around Eames’ waist and strong arms support him as though he weighs nothing at all.

There is a moment, not more than a second, where they look into each other’s eyes before they are lost in a deep kiss. Eames holds him impossibly close and Arthur feels dampness seeping into his clothes. Being so close to Eames for the first time overwhelms him, he wants everything at once, he runs his hands over shoulders, arms, neck, everything he can reach. Arthur revels in the feeling of straining muscles under his palms, he can’t get enough, doesn’t even care about the state of his own clothes which are getting wetter by the second.

Eames licks into his mouth, his hot tongue curling around his own, and only then Arthur realises how cold the rest of Eames’ body actually is. It crosses his mind that he must have run the whole way in the rain and must be freezing. Those are apparently all the logical thoughts he’s capable of whilst pressing himself against Eames’ solid body, because warming him up basically boils down to trying to yank the cool, wet mess of a shirt off over Eames’ head without actually stopping the kiss.

It’s when Eames pulls away and lays a soothing hand onto his cheek, stopping him from chasing the warmth of his mouth and Arthur stills.

“Shhh, Arthur. What are you doing, hm?”

“Oh shit, sorry. I, um… We don’t have to, uh, I just wanted to warm you up,” he stammers, trying to wriggle out of Eames’ grip. He’s embarrassed that he lost control and forgot all about the carefully crafted questions he’d wanted to ask about the audition before making a more physical approach.

“Did you now?” Eames smiles, not willing to put him down just yet he holds him tighter, and Arthur soon gives up trying. “That was a hell of a welcome kiss, I’ll give you that. It’s just that I didn’t picture our first time being us rutting desperately against each other in your hallway. As hot as that may sound, we should keep it in mind for a later time, preferably when I’m a bit less soaked. For today I thought we’d rather take our sweet time together, a little slower, on a more horizontal surface.”

Eames rubs their noses together affectionately and Arthur understands, it’s what he wants as well now that his brain lets him think about it more coherently.

“If you don’t want me jumping you, you have to stop looking like this,” Arthur frowns but he knows his eyes are smiling.

“Like what?” Eames laughs.

“So hot! No wonder I got carried away.”

“I feel rather cold right now, actually.”

“Yeah, we still should get you out of these wet clothes as soon as possible before you catch a cold.”

Arthur leans in for a quick peck on Eames’ smiling lips.

“But please, darling, feel free to jump me like that anytime, and I absolutely agree about taking my clothes off, yes. But not before I tell you the good news.”

Eames’ whole face lights up and he doesn’t have to say it.

“You got the role?” Arthur’s voice cracks a little as the meaning sinks in.

“I got the role, yes.”

Eames’ words are muffled against his shoulder because Arthur flings his arms back around his neck, hugging him tightly. He buries his nose in Eames’ neck, where the skin is cool and damp but still smells amazing.

Eames has been holding him up in his arms for quite a while now and Arthur enjoys how safe he feels wrapped in this secure embrace. He’s so happy he could scream.

“I made bolognese,” he says into Eames’ neck instead.

“Lovely. Do you want to eat that first, or…”

“Are you kidding me? Let me turn off the stove, we can reheat it later, ok?”

“Alright, love.”

“You’ll have to put me down, though.”

“Or I’ll carry you to the kitchen first and then into the bedroom.”

“Put me down, Eames,” Arthur says sternly but with a smile and kisses a drop of water off his nose.

When Eames does, Arthur notices that he’s still wearing his Kiss the BBQ King apron and tries to take it off on his way to the kitchen casually.

“Oh I hoped you’d leave that on, I’ve had some delicious fantasies about you in that apron.”

“Really?” Arthur asks, turning around and throwing the apron at him. “You put it on then, I bet my fantasies about you wearing it were filthier.”

“Hmmm, naughty Arthur,” Eames purrs, the apron slipping from his fingers as he presses Arthur against the kitchen counter.

*

Neither of them is wearing the apron when they finally make it to the bedroom. Arthur managed to get rid of Eames’ shirt on the way and is now carefully tracing the tattoos along Eames’ collarbones with fingertips and tongue. Eames lost his shoes by the door and is now toeing off his socks as Arthur walks him backwards until his legs hit the bedframe, but Eames stops him just before he can push him down.

“Just a sec, love. Let me get these off first,” Eames says, reaching for the fly of his soaked through jeans. Arthur should be grateful that Eames thinks about the state of his sheets and mattress, but only manages a distracted hum in response while he watches.

Eames is trying to make peeling the jeans off his legs as sexy as possible, but they are just that little bit too tight, especially in their wet state, and cling to his damp skin.

“Sodding things,” Eames mumbles in frustration when they stick around his knees, refusing to move any further, and he wobbles inelegantly, reminding Arthur that he got carried away yet again.

“Come on, let me help,” Arthur says fondly and Eames giggles nervously in response, but lets him.

Arthur pushes him to sit on the bed, kneels down at his feet and beings to pull the denim away inch by inch, revealing strong calves that are too cold to the touch. With the jeans out of the way, Arthur rubs his hands up and down Eames’ legs a few times, but they are not getting much warmer. He kisses each knee before he stands up and smiles at Eames who is developing a healthy flush on his cheeks.

“Stay here, I’ll get you a towel,” Arthur says and Eames nods, looking almost innocent sitting on Arthur’s bed in just his boxers.

Arthur comes back and steps between his open thighs, now very aware of how many layers he’s still wearing himself opposite an almost naked Eames. Playful fingers twiddle with the fabric of his trousers at the back of his knees as he drapes a towel over Eames’ head. It makes Arthur squirm slightly and lean in even closer because he’s a little bit ticklish there. Eames notices, tightens his grip with an understanding smile instead of taking advantage of this newfound weakness, and Arthur relaxes into the touch.

Eames hums appreciatively when Arthur gently towels off his hair. It’s short enough to be almost dry when Arthur throws the towel onto a nearby chair, but long enough to stand up at odd angles. Arthur lays a fresh towel around Eames’ shoulders, kneads and rubs his hands down his back and front until he’s satisfied with the pink and warm skin that is revealed when he lifts it up again.

Eames is looking up at him with unguarded eyes, lips curving into a seductive smile.

“Thank you, darling. Further warming up can be accomplished by you taking off your own clothes now. Sharing body heat and all that.”

“Do I really have to do all the work?” Arthur says, teasingly.

Eames grins and slips a hand under Arthur’s waistcoat, starts to unbutton it with the other and then slides it slowly down his shoulders when he’s done. Arthur bends down to kiss him again because it’s been a few minutes since he’s last done that and it feels like too long already.

Arthur feels Eames’ finger tracing up the line of his suspenders, thumbs slipping under the silk and rubbing over his nipples on their way down again, making Arthur shiver in anticipation. He repeats the same motion a few times without breaking the kiss before he pushes them over Arthur’s shoulders and off, so that they hang limply from the waistband of his pants.

Arthur makes quick progress with his tie, shirt and socks. He’s desperate for skin to skin contact now and lets them all pool on the floor. Eames’ eyes follow his movements hungrily, fingers and lips bestowing feather light touches to exposed areas of skin, making it impossible for Arthur to concentrate on things like elegance or dignity.

With his flat hand pressed against Eames’ chest he makes him climb further up the mattress. After taking off his own pants with shaking hands he follows Eames, straddles his thighs and can’t believe he’s allowed to touch what he desired for so long.

Eames is breathing heavily underneath him and Arthur splays both palms over his belly, the slight roundness is barely visible now that he’s lying on his back and Arthur can feel the hard, shivering muscles beneath a soft layer when he runs his fingertips over it, lightly grazing the skin with his nails.

Arthur’s eyes travel upwards. He sees beautifully toned pectorals covered by a fine layer of soft hair over inky letters in different languages - which Arthur longs to both touch and to understand - sees the biceps decorated with tribal motifs which are straining as Eames grips the sheets at his sides while Arthur sinks down, kissing his way upwards over his ribs.

“God, Eames,” he murmurs into his skin, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea.”

The nipple under Arthur’s tongue is hard and when he nibbles at it lightly, Eames groans, arches up into Arthur and brings a hand into his hair, the other winds around his waist and he’s pressed firmly against Eames’ body.

“Oh don’t worry, pet. I’m getting a very firm grip on the idea,” Eames breathes into his ear when he moves his hand slowly down over Arthur’s ass and squeezes.

Arthur huffs out a sound, something between a giggle and a moan. He pushes himself up on his hands and looks down at Eames who is grinning confidently, stormy grey eyes blown wide with lust.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Arthur says, trailing his bottom lip with his index finger. When Eames touches it lightly with the tip of his tongue, a shiver runs down Arthur’s spine, making his cock twitch where it’s pressed against the hard length of Eames’ own.

“I am here and you can do whatever you want to me, or tell me what you want me to do to you. Anything, Arthur.” The sincere look is back in his eyes again, the one that touches Arthur’s heart in places he’s sure he has never bared to anyone else before.

“Anything,” Arthur repeats.

He trails his finger down Eames’ chin, over his chest and down to the waistband of his black boxer briefs. Amazed at how Eames’ breath catches, he sits up and drags a finger over the covered erection, feels it twitching.

When he looks at him, Eames holds his gaze even though his eyes are half hooded now, his lips are parted and he’s licking them, probably unconsciously, but Arthur gets the hint.

He crawls down further, pulls Eames’ boxers down with him, then takes his own off when he reaches the foot of the bed. Eames is pushed up on his elbows now, still watching as Arthur comes closer again. His head bent low, Arthur breathes against Eames’ cock before he licks it from base to tip, making Eames squirm and moan. Encouraged he sucks in the head, then a bit more, enjoys the strangled sounds Eames makes. He’s so focussed on how Eames feels in his mouth, which movements of his tongue trigger the loudest moans, that it takes him by surprise when Eames pulls him upwards for a quick, wet kiss and then flips him onto his back in one elegant move.

Eames is looking down at him now, breath heaving and a flush spreading out over his chest. He lowers himself onto Arthur slowly and kisses him. One of his hands ends up tangled in Arthur’s hair, the other one strokes down his side, up Arthur’s thigh once he raises his legs, spreads them so Eames can lie between them.

Arthur digs his nails into the massive bulk of Eames’ upper arms in desperation, because he rolls his hips down so agonisingly slowly.

“What do you want, darling?” Eames says between kisses, voice trembling.

Arthur’s mind is blank, there is nothing but wanting to be as close to Eames as possible, wanting to be touched everywhere by his deft hands, wanting to touch everything in return.

“Your hands, I want your hands,” Arthur manages. “But stay close, please. I need you here.” Arthur clings to him, feeling dizzy.

“Hmm yes, I know something. Arthur? Look at me, darling.” Arthur doesn’t remember closing his eyes and opens them slowly. ”Ah, there you are. You get all of that and more when you tell me where the lube is, my bag is too far away.”

Arthur doesn’t think, stretches his arm towards the bedside table automatically and presses the bottle into Eames’ hand.

Eames kisses his knuckles when he takes it from his fingers, shifts to lie beside him but keeps as much contact as possible and then rolls Arthur carefully onto his side. He snuggles up against his back, pressing close and nudges Arthur’s upper leg to move upwards a bit.

Arthur lets him, it all feels too good, having the hands he fantasised about for months touch him like this.

“Is this ok?” Eames asks softly and very close to his ear. He touches warmed up lube carefully between Arthur’s thighs, waiting for his answer before spreading it. Arthur can feel his fingers shaking as they ghost over his skin.

“Yes. Yes, Eames, please,” Arthur moans, pushing back to feel Eames’ cock nudging at the small of his back.

“Shhh, just a moment, love.” Eames's voice is low, tone meant to be soothing, but it goes straight to Arthur’s cock because Eames is right there, pressed against him and he can feel his breath on his skin.

Eames slicks up the insides of Arthur's thighs, runs two tentative fingers up his cleft and causing Arthur to gasp, then he guides his leg back down. He shuffles a little lower, getting in position and holding onto Arthur’s hip at first, then pushes his cock between Arthur’s thighs with a low, strangled moan.

Arthur presses his legs together, enjoying the feeling of the hardness between them and lets out a sobbing sound when Eames’ slick hand closes around his cock and gives him a firm stroke.

“Hmm yes, darling.” Eames exhales audibly, his breath comes out shakily and Arthur feels it hot against his spine. “This feels wonderful, you feel wonderful,” Eames whispers and kisses Arthur’s shoulder.

“Almost perfect, wish I could kiss you like this.” He tilts his head back, but the angle is awkward and Eames can only reach the far corner of his mouth with his lips.

“Tell me when you’re close, yeah?” Eames pants and sounds like he has difficulties holding back already.

“Yes,” Arthur breathes as Eames pushes him a little further into the mattress, bringing his other arm around from under his side to hold him even closer, hand splayed high over his ribs.

The rhythm Eames establishes is slow at first, he fucks his thighs smoothly and strokes him deliberately but with not enough pressure, not fast enough. Then he adds some clever twists that make Arthur’s toes curl, swipes his thumb over his head on every other upstroke and Arthur feels the heat building in his stomach much too fast.

They are both too far gone to draw this out much longer, it feels amazing and intimate, but it’s too much. The low rumble of Eames’ moans reverberating in Arthur’s body, watching and feeling his beautiful hand sliding up and down his cock and the tip of his cock nudging the sensitive spot behind Arthur’s taut balls a few times too often.

“Eames? Eames!” It’s the only warning he can manage.

“I’ve got you, love,” Eames says, voice strained, but has Arthur on his back in seconds, now hovering over him with both their cocks in his hand and his lips pressed against Arthur’s.

Arthur grabs a handful of Eames’ ass, runs the other hand through the short hair on the base of his neck and his body aches against Eames’ as they kiss deeply but without much finesse. He cries out when he comes between them, holding onto Eames tightly who strokes him through his orgasm until he tenses above him and comes a few moments later with a deep groan. He keeps mumbling Arthur’s name over and over into his mouth, his body still shaking.

Then Eames slumps down, lands half on top of him and Arthur holds him close when he tries to scoot further away.

“Hey,” Arthur says fondly, “I meant it when I said stay close.”

“Old habit,” Eames mumbles, eyes bright when he settles against Arthur’s side.

“Stupid habit.”

Eames hums happily and plants lazy kisses on his collarbone.

Eames could probably do with a hot shower after being cold for so long, even if his body now feels hot against his own, but Arthur really doesn’t want to let him go just yet.

*

Dinner is a little bit awkward, but not entirely because of Arthur’s pasta choice. It’s just that after they showered together, he’s got some first-hand experience concerning some sexy things Eames can do with his mouth and he feels like a horny teenager just watching him eat. Eames sitting at his table in the ridiculous gym shorts which he packed for Arthur’s amusement instead of a second pair of decent pants, isn’t helpful either.

It is, however, a good kind of awkward, because Eames looks like he is just as eager to get back into bed.

In the morning Arthur makes him an espresso and Eames leans against his counter casually, like he belongs here. His strong, bare legs stretched out in front of him, one foot crossed over the other at the ankle. Like he’s always belonged here with Arthur.

He’s grinning and cradles the tiny cup in his big hands, eyes sparkling when he takes a sip and lets out a surprised and pleased little sound. This time not to praise the cup, but the person who made the coffee for him.

In this moment Arthur realises Eames might play the role of a salesman on TV, but it’s not the act that had mesmerised Arthur in the first place. It’s his natural charm and enthusiasm for life in general, the way he appreciates everything he touches, his ability to make silly things look beautiful. That’s all Eames the person, and it shines through more often than he’s probably aware of.

This is not a moment for big declarations, and it’s too early for that anyway, but one day soon he’s going to tell Eames the story of how he fell in love with him. About the moment he’d first seen him on Ari’s little TV screen, how he’d spilled wine all over her carpet because he’d stopped so abruptly on his way to the couch, and the irony of it all was that Eames had presented a steam cleaner at that exact moment. Ari’s carpet really wasn’t worth buying that, but it gave Arthur the perfect excuse to keep watching very intently. Since then he hasn’t missed an episode once.

And now there is the apron hanging on a hook on the door, there is the microfiber kitchen towel lying on the counter, there is an empty wine bottle standing on the smiley face coaster on the table, there is the espresso cup in Eames’ hand - and there is Eames. Eames is standing in his kitchen, only halfway dressed and with mussed hair, smiling at him like Arthur’s never seen him smile into the camera before.

Yes, one day soon Arthur’s going to tell Eames the whole story, until then he’ll keep calm and enjoy every single step of the way.

 

___

_Youcantsaymylastname made amazing manips for me. Please check out the[original post on tumblr](http://youcantsaymylastname.tumblr.com/post/142877517236/keep-calm-by-mycitruspocket), if you haven't already, and tell her how awesome they are! _

 

  



	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Eames, how many times do you think you will actually sleep on Tessa’s couch instead of in my bed?”

_Three months later_

 

Arthur follows Eames into a darkened corridor. The cardboard box Eames is carrying must be twice as heavy as the one he’s given him, going by the way his back muscles strain under the shirt. Arthur would complain but he’s busy enjoying the view and he also knows Eames well enough by now to know he doesn’t do it to show off his strength. He enjoys making gentlemanly gestures like this and Arthur lets him, most of the time.

The storage room Eames leads him to only contains a couple of canvases so far, some in heavy wooden frames and some unframed, which pile up in one corner.

“I left those to have a reason to come back, but I found a much better one.” Eames grins, kisses Arthur’s cheek and they go to get the rest of his stuff out of the van.

Once they’ve unpacked everything, the room isn’t that much fuller.

“Is that really everything?” Arthur looks around.

Eames’ art deco furniture is here; the desk, the armchairs and the sideboard. They gave the little Boston apartment such an Eamesian touch that Arthur felt comfortable there immediately. There are a few boxes full of books, art supplies, DVDs and some with random things and clothes. Arthur can’t remember anything else he’s seen in Eames’ old apartment, so yeah, that must be it.

“Yep, that’s it, darling. I moved around a lot, mostly lived in flat shares because in my profession you never know how long you are going to have to survive between jobs and where to move for the next one. It’s so much easier when you’re travelling light.”

“Makes, sense,” Arthur says absentmindedly, thinking about how an Eamesian touch in his apartment would look like.

“Alright, almost done!” Eames rubs his hands together in excitement. “Let’s take these over to Tessa’s before dinner so they’re out of the way, yeah?”

Eames slings the bigger of the two holdalls over his shoulder and then picks up the other as well. Arthur would fight him for it this time, but something else is much more important right now. He’s trying to figure out why he’s even let it get this far.

“Eames, how many times do you think you will actually sleep on Tessa’s couch instead of in my bed?” Arthur says in his serious voice, because he’s tried talking to Eames about this for weeks, who has always cleverly avoided directly answering questions on the subject.

“Um,” Eames mumbles, looking down at the floor, now trapped between Arthur and the desk he crowds him into.

“Exactly!” Arthur points his index finger forcefully into Eames’ chest and moves in close. “What about we take these over to mine, then you can take me out for dinner because you are going to want to thank me for helping you carry all of five boxes so _that’s_ out of the way. And tomorrow I’m going to make you breakfast in bed and I’ll wear nothing else but the fucking apron.” Arthur grins triumphantly when Eames looks him in the eyes again. Then he continues softly, hopefully, while holding Eames’ gaze. “Afterwards, if you want, we can start looking for a slightly bigger apartment together with enough space to hang up some of your paintings.”

“But darling,” Eames says, taken aback, surprise clearly written all over his face. “I can’t possibly say what offers I’m going to get after this job. Yusuf said they’d want me back next year if I’m free, but…”

“I can afford something bigger even if you have to temporarily move for a job, which I don’t want to think about right now, because honestly? I can’t stand the thought of you living somewhere else anymore. I want to come home to you, want you to come home to me, every day, if that’s ok with you.”

Eames just watches him intently without answering, like he can’t believe what Arthur’s just said. So Arthur kisses him reassuringly on the lips to soothe the shock.

“I’ll even buy a milk frother and huge latte glasses for you because I know you only drink the espressos because you like the way I look at you when you drink them. And I’ll still look at you like that, because it has nothing to do with the coffee,” Arthur says and Eames visibly relaxes.

“Arthur,” Eames’ voice is calm but hesitant and he searches for any sign of uncertainty in Arthur’s eyes that most definitely isn’t there. His face lights up at the realisation and he lets go of the bag, pulls Arthur into a deep kiss by cupping his jaw tenderly with both hands. “Yes,” says Eames, beginning to drop kisses all over Arthur’s face. “Yes to all of it.”

Arthur pulls away first, his hand lingering on the nape of Eames’ neck a little bit longer because he loves the little tremor his moving fingertips cause there. Then he reaches for the bag on the floor and also for Eames’ hand, gives it a firm squeeze. He moves for the door, tugging a beaming Eames behind him.

“Come along, Mr Eames,” Arthur says over his shoulder, smiling confidently. “It’s about time I tell you the story of how I ruined Ari’s carpet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it! I had a blast writing this, thanks to everyone's support and enthusiasm about this story. You darlings are the best!


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